


Strange Weakness

by Wawa_Girl



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, No Spoilers for GOTG Vol. 2, Tickle Fights, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: "So...it is something one does if they want to make the other smile and cheer up?""It's something someone does if they want to get theirass kicked."





	Strange Weakness

"What is this song about?"

Peter had been bobbing his head to the tune, wiping down rusted beams on _The Milano_ with a dirty rag, when the question was posed.

"It is random. And confusing," Gamora said. "What place in the sky, and what does his friend have to do with our deaths?"

The leader huffed a laugh and shook his head at her need of an explanation for Norman Greenbaum's lyrics.

Rocket, Drax, and Quill held a target shooting contest that morning to determine whose turn it would be to clean the ship, and an hour later Star-Lord was stuck inside doing _completely heroic_ , domestic chores while the others took Groot and went out exploring the land in search of trouble. Gamora had told them she would stay behind and help, which led Peter to believe she preferred his company the most.

"It's somewhat metaphorical," he told her and she nodded. The Zehoberei definitely had a finer grip than Drax on the concept of many phrases and songs containing metaphors, but he knew that didn't mean she understood all of them.

"It's based on a popular Terran religion," he further explained, and the woman's interest seemed to pique at the subject, a reaction she commonly gave whenever Peter referenced part of his former society (outside of Indiana Jones or _Footloose_ , which he later confessed, while legendary, were entirely fictional).

He didn't contain the passion or qualification to explain something as complicated, and frankly boring, as the history and details of various Earth faiths, nor did such a discussion have any place being talked about over good pop music.

Though the very fact that Gamora was asking him questions about his music collection made him happy.

"So this Jesus was the founder of it?" she asked, hoping to gain more information on this part of Terran culture.

"Pretty much," he shrugged and tossed the rag over the shoulder of his jacket.

"Good or evil?" she questioned seriously with her arms crossed and head tilted up, remembering that she's heard Peter say that name several times whenever he was startled or pissed off.

Peter smirked. "He had his cool moments, I guess. But I'm no theologian." He sat down with a bounce onto a cot and glanced at the playing tape. It was all instrumental now. "It's not inappropriate to dance to it, if that's what you're worried about," he said once he noticed the heel of her boot, likely involuntarily, tapping to the beat.

"I do not--"

"Right," he cut her off with a knowing look and her body went still.

After the defeat of Ronan, when Star-Lord accompanied his new team in _The Milano_ 's cockpit, he appeared to be playing a brand new tape of music, an action he continued to do every hour of every day, playing it straight through on a loop for weeks on end. This resulted in the other four inhabitants of the ship collectively losing their minds and begging the pilot to shut it off under threat of mutilation.

While Gamora's irritation had been mostly embellished, the remaining three not so much. The new-grown baby Groot had gone from happily dancing to plugging his ears with branches every time the first track started over, Rocket nearly put a bullet through Peter's back when he had started playing it in the middle of the night, and Drax threatened to smash the cassette if it didn't end soon. That was when Gamora saw Peter's eyes widen, looking more afraid than on any battlefield, and knowing of the item's sentimental value, intervened and took a rare negotiation approach, getting Peter to agree to at the very least switch the tapes at each new destination.

That was fine with Peter, and seemed to settle the month-long infighting amongst the Guardians, especially since their leader still used his Walkman and headphones often enough.

"And if I did dance, it would not be--" The assassin's defensive statement was cut off when she tripped over a blaster a certain creature resembling a raccoon abandoned on the floor. "Ugh, Rocket..." she muttered and kicked it aside, stumbling onto the cot just when Mr. Music Man was shedding off his jacket.

"It's hot as Hades on this planet," he said, fiddling with a strap. "What do you say we switch on the AC and bait Rocket into cleaning the rest himself--what is _wrong_ with this thing?"

Gamora rolled her eyes as their hopelessly cocky leader struggled to unfasten a shoulder strap button and took it into her own hands. "Here, let me," she insisted, her hands around his waist to wrestle it off from the back.

"Thanks," he said with a grin that she simply ignored. "Now _David Bowie_ knew how to write a song about space," he said commenting on the next track that started playing. "I knew that before ever experiencing space for myself--ahh! Aha! Nanana, careful!" Peter shrieked and twisted away from Gamora's fingers, biting his tongue. She instantly pulled away.

"What did I do?" she asked, fearful she had somehow hurt him. "Bother a pre-existing injury?"

"Mmm..." he coughed and slid the rest of his coat off, the cool air finally kicking in. "Didn't hurt, sorry, just...ticklish." He cringed, having meant to say the word under his breath, but knew it was loud enough for her to hear.

"What?" she asked flatly, his head down and arms curled protectively around his middle.

 _Shit. Should've just let her think she hurt me._ "Well, seems Rocket _did_ fix the air like he promised. I guess that little jerk isn't entirely useless, after all," he said, trying to change the subject.

"What did you say before?" Gamora asked stubbornly, and he sighed and turned around, raising his hands in defense.

"Okay, yes, very funny, I said I'm ticklish, but it's not like I'm the only one in the whole damn--" he stopped speaking when he noticed her face was not one of teasing but genuine confusion, and it clicked. "You don't know what that is, do you?" Of course she didn't. Of course Miss Stab Stab, Slash Slam, "Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy" didn't know the meaning of the word.

"No?" she asked, and before Peter could exclaim _'Great! Nevermind then!'_ Gamora's curiosity continued. "What does it mean?" Even if she did hear the word once or twice in her travels, its definition didn't ring any bells.

"It's..." He knew he could save the awkwardness by saying it was some awesome superpower, but Gamora was always disturbingly excellent at knowing when he was lying, and he did love her desire to learn anything new he had to share. "It's just a sensitivity thing," he tried to say without it sounding lewd. "That makes you laugh."

"So...it is something one does if they want to make the other smile and cheer up?"

"It's something someone does if they want to get their _ass kicked_ ," Star-Lord corrected. "Or pump information out of someone."

"So it _is_ painful," she said again, very confused by this point.

"No, it...it's unpleasant and uncomfortable without hurting. You know how an itch or a chill are uncomfortable, but not painful?" She waved a hand in semi-understanding. "Sorta like that. Low-key, harmless, annoying torture."

"But it makes you laugh?" she still questioned, puzzled, having never heard of a torture with such an effect.

"Yeah, it's kinda backwards that way," he admitted. "You've seriously never felt that or observed it?"

Gamora appeared to take mild offense that Peter would question her memory and awareness of such topics. "I would know," she simply said with confidence.

And then Peter Jason Quill did what could have been the most dangerous action in all his thirty-four years of life. More risky than any thieving expedition, spaceship explosion, or contact with an infinity stone the galaxy could throw at him, and the outlaw-turned-guardian knew this even as he swiftly grabbed onto the warrior's sides and squeezed at varying spots and paces, needing to know for himself if Gamora was pulling a fast one on him or simply unaware of the sensation.

Whether it was her body's modifications or her overall badassery, her response was nothing but a cold, annoyed glare even as she impatiently let him perform his experiment. He eventually lowered his arms and sighed deflated. "Well, that's a bummer."

Rather than gathering up the nearest sword and leaving him with stump wrists, her first reflex when he ceased was to spin around and pin him onto the cot, his arms above his head in a death grip. "Convinced?" she asked with a smile.

"Yep," he breathed out strained, exaggerated as though she was once again holding a knife to his throat. "Got it. Not ticklish. Never should've doubted your confidence and strength, ma'am," he said playfully while David Bowie continued to sing throughout the room. "Let me up?"

She looked up and stared straight ahead. "In three minutes," she stated, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the precise timing, wondering if she was protecting him from a ticking bomb hidden aboard. "Umm...any reason why this time frame--eheep!" Star-Lord let out a squeal and gritted his teeth when the woman's nails skittered down his sides. "Dohon't!" his only defense besides kicking against the metal beneath the cot.

"I am immune, but it works well on you. You are smiling yet uncomfortable. I need to study this form of torture," she said matter-of-factly while imitating the movements he had made on her waist, though this time with success. "This is how it is done?"

It was then Peter realized the idiocy in teaching such an action to his friend who loved bringing him down a peg, and mentally expressed frustration at what a fast learner she was at a silly teasing game she had supposedly never known.

_Oh joy. Refuses to dance, but jumps to tickle torture in a snap._

"You are weak," she stated calculated with only a hint of a smile while lightly pinching up his ribs through his shirt, making Peter desperately wish he had kept on his coat for a small, extra layer of protection. "You could fight me off if you tried, but it is too unbearable."

The snippy remarks of _'Gamora, I know this is new to you, but it is not safe with so many sharp weapons lying around!'_ or _'Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to be educated on Terran world religions and their relation to music? It's very fascinating,'_ or _'Ya know, this isn't the type of intimate alone time I had in mind,'_ that were circling his brain could not be verbalized, as he instead was letting out yips and trying to prevent them from turning into uncontrollable giggles, fighting to get free of her hands.

The strong, rough, forceful hands of the most unyielding, cybernetically-enhanced assassin across all of existence currently tickling the snot out of a certain Star-Lord.

"Mmmm! Hehehehestapit! GAMORA! Stop it! Thahahahahat's not funny! Cuhuhuhuhuuuuuut it out!" he pleaded, only furthering her interest and knowledge of where this "torture" worked best, learning to avoid all areas that failed, focusing and drilling into those that did not.

"It is somewhat humorous," she disagreed, poking into his armpits that he clamped down while squeezing his eyes shut and no longer holding in bellowing laughter. "And important," she resumed her serious tone. "When was the last time this was done to you?" she asked like a doctor or training instructor gaining important information on their subject, cautious not to make her physical jabs _too_ strong to avoid any real harm.

"Gahahahahaha stop! Not since EARTH!" he answered honestly, not having been purposely tickled by anyone since his mother and other human family members, always thankful the Ravagers never discovered this sensation, although it would have been a much less terrifying obstacle to fear than becoming a meal. "Hahahahaha please stop! Not right THERE!" he begged and twisted around when she was kneading at his stomach, now flipped over and face smushed into the cot.

Gamora shook her head and continued tickling from behind. "That is far too long to be an appropriate test. You were a child. We need to make sure this form of torture cannot be used to break you now. What if an enemy found out about this during an interrogation?" she asked, and he was uncertain if she was being 100% serious or 100% a juvenile she-devil.

"They WOHOHOHON'T! You can STAHAHAHAP! LET GO!" he barked through more giggles, frustrated at the absurdity of the idea.

"You do not know that. You need a tolerance, or could put us all at risk. Be strong. It is only an uncomfortable itch and forced laughter," she said as though she was suddenly an expert. "You can handle it."

 _'Easy for you to say, tough girl,'_ his mind bitterly replied while only laughter and pathetic begging came from his lips and he turned his body back around, trying weakly to fend off his friend. "Shit! Shihihihihit! Stop THAT! It's TORTUUURE! IT IS! Gamora! Hahahahahahaha! Pfft! Tortuhuuuuuuuurahahahaha..." He knew the equal absurdity in himself, a famed outlaw and galaxy defender, speaking to a warrior raised by Thanos, referring to what he'd just introduced as a painless prank as "torture."

He also knew that if this _were_ an enemy choosing a very weird interrogation method, he would put far more effort into masking his discomfort and not begging for mercy like a child.

But _dammit_ , he was not prepared to be overpowered in _this way_ after nearly three decades, and Gamora was _strong_ , and relentless, and _shit_ , her nails were _long_...

"Gahahahahahahaha...hehehehe Gamora! Trouble breeeheheheathing! Trouble breathing!" he desperately expressed when she slowed her hands, and Gamora momentarily looked concerned at the effects of excessive laughter, noticing once Peter quieted that her three minutes were over.

"Fine. Breathe, Quill," she instructed and stopped her attack, putting an end to the man's incessant cackling and squirming.

As Peter regained his breathing and gave his assailant a look of pure treason, he noticed by now that David Bowie's performance had finished and the next track had begun to play. It was the song they listened to when they almost kissed on Knowhere, and he realized why Gamora had said three minutes. The fellow Guardian had heard this mix so many times that she had memorized the remaining time of the last song, planning her torment of him to end by the time the following song began so as not to be leaning over him on a bed when its melodies hit.

This time Peter had more sense than to make a move and instead scooched up on the bed, keeping their distance at arm's length. "Not cool. NOT cool!" the humiliated leader said while shaking his head. "And you say _I'm_ childish. Jesus!" he exclaimed, panting.

Gamora, however, was grinning with great satisfaction, finding the experience...fun, and the Terran's reactions...adorable.

More fun than dusting control panels or giving a lesson on how to shoot a gun straight.

"A childish torture is fitting for you. Not that you know the meaning of the word," she quipped and moved back her hair that had fallen in her face during the three minutes of "testing" on her friend. "Is it that unpleasant for everyone who can feel it?"

"Mmm...most. Most normal people," Peter answered with no intention of making himself look like an exceptional weakling, giving her a suspicious eye, only halfway to trusting her to be near him. "I mean, I guess there are some that enjoy and get off to it, but not--not me, I'm not...I'm not, ya know, into anything _weird_ like that--"

Gamora rolled her eyes at his perverse rambling. "A strange weakness. Is it an alien/Terran hybrid thing?" she asked, her curiosity from the beginning of the conversation returned.

"Uhh...I'm pretty sure it's just a human thing..." he said like it was obvious. "Or some other species, I suppose," he added before a thought popped into his head. "If the others find out about this--" he warned.

"They won't," Gamora said before he could voice the rest of his fears, and Peter appeared taken aback by how quickly she reassured this.

"Really?" he asked surprised, searching her eyes for any hint of trickery and finding none.

"Believe it or not, Quill, I do not take enjoyment out of you being tortured _all_ of the time," she stated honestly, and Peter relaxed into a grateful smile despite her previous actions. "But you may want to watch your back around me, Star-Boy," she teased and left, walking up the stairs of _The Milano_ in rhythm with the tune of Elvin Bishop.

"Lord!" he grumbled loudly after Gamora was already out of earshot, still in a faint daze regarding what had just happened.

He was placing back on his jacket, no longer bothered by the high temperatures, and pouted at a realization.

Time with his headphones would need to be sacrificed if he truly needed to "watch his back" in Gamora's presence for awhile.

"Fine! But I hope you know that means more music is just going to have to be played out loud around here!"

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you people asked for more. :P
> 
> I may or may not have put the entirety of "Awesome Mix Volume 1" on my ipod and have been listening to it repeatedly. If it was good enough for Star-Lord for 26 years, I take no shame in it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this ridiculousness, and as always, comments increase the quality of my life exponentially, and thank you very much for reading. ^_^
> 
> My _Guardians of the Galaxy_ tumblr is [here](https://marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches.tumblr.com/)!


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